Less Than Professional
by Smackalicious
Summary: Ziva has always wanted to know more about computers, so she goes to the one person she knows will teach her - McGee. McGiva fluff.


Title: Less Than Professional  
Summary: Ziva has always wanted to know more about computers, so she goes to the one person she knows will teach her - McGee.  
Rated: PG-13  
Categories: Humor, Het (McGee/Ziva)  
Genre: Humor, Romance  
Warnings: None  
Author's Notes: Written for the Weekly Writing Game on NFA, week 9. Pairing was McGee/Ziva (yay!) and prompt was expertise.

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**Less Than Professional**

McGee looked up from his keyboard as a stream of foreign expletives sounded across the bullpen. He cleared his throat and spoke. "Uh, Ziva? You okay over there?"

He shrank back in his seat as Ziva popped up out of her own chair, an angry look on her face, and advanced towards him, leaning over his desk and pointing a finger at him. "You!"

McGee continued to stare at her, wide-eyed, and raised his hands in surrender. "I . . . I don't think I did anything . . ."

"Of course not," she barked, letting out a bitter laugh. She shook her head and retreated slightly, causing McGee to resume a less . . . diagonal position in his chair.

"And what was I supposed to do that I didn't do?" he asked, leaving Ziva frowning.

"Fix my computer."

McGee echoed her frown. "Uh, I didn't know it needed fixing . . ."

"Did you not just hear my frustration, McGee?" Ziva asked in a loud voice. She pointed at her desk. "It will not . . ." She threw her hands up. "It is simply not working."

"Is it frozen?" McGee asked cautiously. He never knew when Ziva might withdraw a sharpened pencil and stab it into his eye for asking stupid questions.

She threw her head back, then shook it, turning her gaze back to him. "I do not know. You are the expert. You tell me." She returned to her desk, sitting and looking at him expectantly.

McGee jolted. "Oh, uh, you want me to . . . come over there and . . . yeah." He hurried over to her desk and stood next to her chair, looking down at the machine in question.

"I do not bite, McGee," Ziva assured him, amused. "Get in there and tell me what happened. I need your, shall we say, expertise."

He cocked an eyebrow at her and motioned for her to move aside. She simply smirked at him and he rolled his eyes, leaning over her to type. She made a contented purring sound, momentarily throwing McGee offguard, but he quickly recovered and continued his magic. After a moment, he announced, "Aha!"

Ziva looked to the screen in interest. "What is it?"

He turned to her, smiling triumphantly. "You failed to shut your computer off properly."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "But my computer is not off."

"Um, yeah, I meant the last time you turned it off," McGee explained.

"Well, that is odd," Ziva said, leaning forward and brushing McGee's arm with her chest. He pulled his arm back like he had been bitten. Ziva ignored the motion for the time being, clicking around on the screen. "I unplugged everything when I left yesterday . . ."

"You did _what_?" McGee asked, squatting down next to her. "You don't just unplug computers, Ziva. They're fragile machines, needing to be handled with the most delicate touch . . ."

"Ah, I see," Ziva said, chuckling softly. She turned to him, slapping him gently on the cheek. "You have a . . . gentle touch, McGee?" Her eyes twinkled. "Perhaps you would care to show me?"

A blush worked its way across McGee's face. "Um, I don't, I really don't, uh . . ."

Ziva allowed another laugh to escape, this one more of a sinister giggle; a trademark for her. "I meant on the _computer_, of course."

"I knew that," McGee responded, straightening. He motioned at her again. "I can't really show you anything bending over you . . ." He closed his eyes in realization of how that statement sounded, and Ziva joined in with another giggle.

"Oh, but McGee, I do think you could show me so much," she said, adding a husky tone to her voice. He simply stared at her in response, so she let out a tiny huff and stood, offering her chair to him.

"Thanks," he muttered, glad to be out of her close range for the moment. He began clacking away at the keyboard, mumbling to himself as he did so.

"McGee, you are not teaching me anything," Ziva's voice broke into McGee's reverie, as he felt her presence behind him – leaning over his shoulder, to be precise, her mouth mere centimeters from his ear.

"Um, yeah," he responded, quickly turning in the chair and accidentally hitting Ziva in the leg with his own leg. She let out a small yelp, losing her balance and plopping down onto McGee's lap.

He coughed, uncomfortable, as Ziva shifted her body, twisting to look at him. "Well," she said, eyes wide. "That is certainly one way to get your attention." She began laughing again, and McGee found himself joining in despite his embarrassment.

"Yeah, well, as much, uh, _fun_ as this is, I can't really . . ." He made a motion with his arms, causing Ziva to shift again and face him, her leg lodged firmly between his.

"You cannot what, McGee?" Ziva asked, the sultriness returning to her voice.

He closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath. "I can't show you how to . . . use computers with you just sitting on my lap." He opened his eyes and found Ziva still looking at him, smirking. "Please?"

Ziva shrugged. "I am quite comfortable here. You really would not want to make me angry, McGee." She leaned in to mutter in his ear. "I have a staple remover I have been _dying_ to use . . ."

"Fine," McGee responded. "I'll just type around you."

"Mmm, yes," Ziva murmured as he slid his arms under hers, poking his head over her shoulder to see the screen. She wiggled in her spot a bit, waiting for McGee to say something.

"God, Ziva, can't you sit still?" McGee mumbled, sitting up straighter.

"I would, but I did not want to disturb you," she responded, flicking out her tongue to wet her lips. "That is, unless you would like me to." She finished her statement with a soft chuckle.

McGee cracked his neck. "I have no idea what you're talking about and I really don't think I want to."

Ziva continued to chuckle, reaching up and trailing a hand through his hair. "You are cute when you feign ignorance, McGee."

"Hey!" he responded, taking his hands off the keyboard, then paused. "You think I'm cute?"

"Oh, McGee, there are many things you have to learn about me," she said suggestively, allowing her hand to rest on the back of his neck.

McGee felt his face burning under her scrutiny. "Um, uh, I thought you wanted me to teach you . . ."

"Yes, yes, I would like to know more about computers," she interrupted him. "But I am curious about your expertise in other areas, as well."

Just as he was about to respond, she hopped off his lap. He frowned at her sudden change in attitude, then looked up, seeing that Gibbs had walked in the room.

"You two done breaking my rules yet?" he asked as he walked past Ziva's desk.

McGee quickly stood. "Uh, I was just helping Ziva out with her computer, Boss," he explained, looking over to Ziva for help.

"Yes, yes, I asked McGee for his assistance," Ziva agreed, nodding.

Gibbs gave them a look of disbelief. "Just be glad I didn't see how you were 'assisting' her, McGee. I'd hate to have to kick you off the team."

McGee's eyes widened. "But Boss, I wasn't . . ."

"I don't care, McGee," Gibbs interrupted, holding his arms open. "Just get back to work. You can 'assist' her after you're done here."

"Okay . . ." McGee said, narrowing his eyebrows and returning to his desk. He sat down and looked over to Ziva, who had returned to her chair, as well. They exchanged a look and a shrug.

Gibbs sat down, opened a file, then closed it again, standing. "I'm going for coffee." He shot each of the duo a look, then exited the bullpen.

"That was very . . ." Ziva started, and McGee finished for her.

"Hinky?"

She nodded. "Yes. If I did not know any better . . ."

". . . it would seem like he didn't care about us breaking rule 12," McGee finished again. Ziva shot him a look of surprise. "Uh, not that we actually _were_ breaking that rule . . ."

She stood and swaggered over to his desk, sitting on the corner and picking up a pen. "Not _yet_, McGee. Not yet." She drew the pen through her teeth, wagging her eyebrows at him.

McGee sighed. "You're worse than Tony."

Ziva chuckled. "Yes, but I'm _much_ better looking, so it all evens out. Now, show me my way around this thing." She hopped from the desk and plopped onto McGee's lap again before he could protest, taking the mouse from his hand and navigating around the screen.

And McGee, despite his embarrassment, annoyance, confusion . . . well, the cavalcade of emotions wandering through his organized little brain, couldn't help but smile.

After all, it wasn't everyday someone asked him for computer help.

**THE END!**


End file.
